Daddy Loves You
by x-Pretty-Kitty-x
Summary: John Watson is an army doctor married to his childhood sweetheart Mary who is finally expecting a baby after five years of trying. John is invalided home and it's almost like fate as just two days later, Mary gives birth to their baby. But what will happen when tragedy strikes? A chance encounter with the mysterious Sherlock Holmes could be the start of something amazing.
1. We're Having A Baby

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter One: We're Having A Baby**

AN: Believe it or not, I came up with this idea while I was having a shower. I've being trying not to start any new fanfics until I finish all my others but after coming up with this idea, I just had to write it. It was inspired by onlyashesremain with this fic  /works/806248/chapters/1521116 xxxx

**Summary:**** John Watson is an army doctor and married to his childhood sweetheart Mary who is finally expecting a baby after five years of trying. But after getting shot in Afghanistan, John is invalided home and it's almost like fate as just two days later, Mary is taken to hospital to give birth to their baby. **

**But what will happen when tragedy strikes? **

**A chance encounter with the mysterious Sherlock Holmes could be the start of something amazing.**

"Oh my God, Mary, can you believe it? We're having a baby!" John says excitedly as his wife is loaded into the ambulance.

Unfortunately, at this moment in time, Mary isn't sharing in John's excitement. She's in too much pain from contractions but she gives him a weak smile anyway.

"I know … sweetheart. I know." She replies softly and breathlessly.

"Shall I ring Emily?"

"At the … hospital, John. We'll call her … then."

"Yes, of course. This is going to be fantastic. A little Mary Watson running around."

"Yes, John." Mary smiles softly, despite the pain she's in.

She can see her husband's eyes sparkling and it sends a warmth over her that seems to calm her for a few moments.

"We're nearly at the hospital now, Mr and Mrs Watson."

"Hear that, Mary? We're nearly there. I love you so much, sweetheart. I can't wait to see our beautiful baby girl." He smiles at her and grabs her hand.

The ambulance pulls up and the paramedics wheel the stretcher out, dragging it inside the hospital.

John is still holding his wife's and grinning like a mad man.

"Doctor Watson, I'm afraid you'll have to stay here." A doctor suddenly says, stopping John in his tracks.

"Why, what's wrong?" John replies in a worried tone.

"Your wife's heart rate is too high and we're worried about the effect it might have on the baby. We'll have to give her a Caesarean Section in order to reduce stress on both mother and baby."

"But they'll be okay, right?"

"We'll do everything we can, Doctor Watson."

"Okay, thank you, doctor."

The doctor nods in reply before heading off to the surgery.

An agonising two hours later and finally the doctor returns. John notices that he's wearing a solemn expression and John knows that their beautiful baby is dead.

"Doctor, what's happened?"

"We did all we could, Doctor Watson but I'm afraid a have some bad news. During the procedure, Mary went into cardiac arrest and we did everything we could but I'm sorry, we lost her."

"And the baby?" John asks, which surprises himself.

"Nurse." The doctor calls and she brings the little baby through the doors.

"Here she is, Doctor Watson. A beautiful and healthy little girl. I'm … very sorry for your loss." She smiles sadly, handing the baby over to John.

"Thank you, nurse. And, um, doctor, tell your staff … thank you … for trying to save my wife." John replies, staring at his little girl.

"I'm sorry we couldn't do more, Doctor Watson." The doctor replies, touching John's shoulder gently before walking off with the nurse.

John stares at his baby, her little hands clutching his finger and blue eyes sparkling.

"Hey, you. I'm your daddy. Listen, mummy … mummy has … gone. So it's just us. But mummy loves you. She would … would have been so happy. I love you too … my little angel." John tells the baby, tears streaming down his face and his voice breaking.

He stands up and heads for the exit, clutching the little girl like he's afraid he'll lose her.


	2. Coping With Loss

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Two: Coping With Loss**

**AN:**** So I'm not one for really short chapters. I ramble on for ages and ages but surprisingly, here I am writing short chapters. They'll probably get longer later on. These are like the introductory chapters. Chapter three may be longer, just depending how where it goes.**

**Two Weeks Later.**

"Hey, John. I heard about Mary. I'm sorry, mate." David, one of John's old rugby pals says solemnly.

"Thanks, mate. Um, the funeral is on Friday, can you make it?"

"Yeah, of course, mate. I'll be there. Don't you worry about that. I'll bring Sophie and the girls too."

"Thanks, Dave. I could really do with my friends now."

"So what about the house then? I heard that you're selling up."

"Yeah, I am. I can't stand the quiet anymore, it's deafening. Everything there reminds me of Mary and it's just … too much." John replies, tears spilling from his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm being a dick."

"Na, mate. You lost your wife on a day that was supposed to be amazing. It's understandable. I'd be in pieces if it had been my Soph. This is normal. And it's best to get it out, mate." Dave replies, throwing an arm around John's shoulders.

"Thanks, Dave. I appreciate it." John smiles sadly, wiping away the tears.

"No worries, Johnny. So where is the little'un then?"

"Harriet's with my mum. I had to get away from her. She reminds me too much of Mary. I couldn't look at her … I'm a terrible father, aren't I?"

"No, you ain't, Johnny. You're still trying to deal with what's happened. Sophie says that PTSD is very common when someone's experienced a traumatic event. I mean, this ain't like in Afghanistan obviously, but it's still traumatic for those involved. A lot of people get over it eventually, some people never do though; they just deal with it. As long as you don't become a psycho then it's all good." Dave says and smiles at the last sentence.

"Yeah, I think I'm good on the psycho front there, Dave."

"Alright then. But be warned, if bodies start turning up with injuries that could only have been done by an army doctor, I'll have to call police, mate." Dave smiles.

"Ha, okay then, Dave. Anyway, I better get off. I'll see ya Friday, yeah."

"No worries, mate."

John waves his friend goodbye before leaving the pub.

**Warning: Next up is the funeral and he's gonna be a tear jerker. Also there's going to be a rewrite of series one episode one. Not all of it as that would take too long but some mentions xxxx**


	3. The Funeral And The Stranger

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Three: The Funeral And The Stranger**

**AN:**** So as I warned you, this is gonna be angsty. Sorry out about that but it is a funeral after all xxxx**

John looks at himself in the mirror, the black suit reflecting his depression and loss; he can't yet get to grips with the fact that he's burying his wife at such a young age.

___Oh God, Harriet. She's lost her mother and she doesn't even know it. _John thinks before looking at the baby sleeping in her cot.

"Harriet, I'm so sorry. I wish I could do something. I wish there was a way to bring her back. I'm sorry I won't be good enough for you." John tells the sleeping form of his daughter, gently picking her up and rocking her.

"John? Um, are you ready, mate?" Dave asks awkwardly, standing in the doorway to the near bare bedroom.

"Yeah. Let's go." John replies solemnly, holding his daughter closer.

"It'll be alright, mate. Me and Soph will help you with little Harry. And besides, you know it's what Mary would have wanted. She would have given her life for that little-un and ya know it. She wouldn't have had it any other way." Dave

"I know. I just wish she could have seen Harry. She would have been so happy."

"I know, mate. Oh, I invited Mike Stamford. I hope you don't mind. I just thought when you said that you need your friends, well why not Mike."

"Thanks, Dave. You're a good mate." John replies, a sort of smile forming.

"She's a looker, that one. Got her mam's good looks and thankfully she ain't got your big ears." Dave jokes, trying to change the subject.

"Hey, you cheeky swine!" John smiles, nudging his friend slightly. "But yeah she is. She'd gonna be a heart-breaker when she's older."

"I'm joking though. She's got your eyes. And your ears ain't that big, mate. Let's just hope she ain't a hobbit like you." Dave grins.

"Just when I thought you were being nice."

"Johnny, I'm your best mate. I'm supposed to terrorize you. It's my duty."

"Oh, it is now, is it? In that case, you've got big whopper ears too, mate." John grins.

"Oi!" Dave grins wider, nudging John in the shoulder.

"Watch the baby, mate."

"Sorry, want me carry her for a bit?"

"No, it's fine. She's helping me now." John replies, stroking Harry's face affectionately.

"I'm glad, mate."

"Yeah, me too."

"Car's here." Dave replies, opening the door for John.

"Cheers, mate." John smiles, climbing into the car and shuffling over so Dave can get in too.

x..x

The car pulls up outside the church and John takes a deep breath before he finally climbs out the car.

There's around sixty of John and Mary's friends and family; even Harriet has managed to stay sober enough to ensure she doesn't embarrass herself at such an occasion.

Mike walks over to John as soon as he's out of the car.

"John, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks, Mike. And thanks for being here." John replies, shaking Mike's hand. "So you still at Bart's?"

"Teaching now, yeah. Bright young things like we used to be. God I hate them. I heard you're selling up?"

"Yeah, I can't afford it now on an army pension ___and _it reminds me too much of Mary."

"You could get a flat share or something."

"C'mon. Who'd want me for a flatmate?" John asks, giving a weak laugh.

"Mm." Mike replies, giving a sort of smile.

"What?" John asks curiously.

"Well you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Who's the first?"

"I'll explain later."

x..x

"Mary was a wonderful, beautiful, brill … brilliant woman. And she … she would have been an amazing … mother." John's voice breaks as he tries to say his speech about his wife.

Dave is about to stand but Mike grabs his arm and shakes his head slightly. "He has to do this, Dave."

Dave looks to his broken friend at the podium before nodding in agreement and settling back into his seat.

"I loved her … from the moment I met her. And I will always … love her. And I will try and raise our daughter … the best that I can … without ___her_. Goodbye, Mary, my love." John finishes, gently touching the coffin before walking back to his seat.

The music starts and the coffin is carried out to the graveyard by Mike, Dave, Mary's step brother Tony and a couple of John's rugby friends.

"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our ___sister _Mary Morstan; and we commit ___her _body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless ___her _and keep ___her_, the Lord make his face to shine upon ___her _and be gracious unto ___her_, the Lord lift up his countenance upon ___her _and give ___her _peace. ___Amen.__"_

One by one family and friends throw roses onto the coffin until its John's turn; he stands there for a moment, just staring at the coffin in which is wife's body is laid to rest and he takes a deep breath before finally throwing the rose on top.

x..x

The wake is a bit more lively but John is hiding away in the corner, content to stare at his little girl for eternity if it was possible and eventually Mike comes over with a young man.

"This is gonna be interesting." John whispers to his daughter, who, surprisingly, smiles in response.

John stands up to greet Mike and the mysterious young man, placing his daughter into the carrier that Dave has given him.

As he holds a hand out to shake Mike's hand, the stranger speaks, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

_"_Sorry?"

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you—_"_

"How do you feel about the violin?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

"Are you—? You told him about me?"

**"**Not a word."

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" John asks, looking between the stranger and Mike.

"I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. And just now he asked me to meet you. He knows I'm not the type for giving sympathies, in fact, most commonly; I don't like to talk to ___anyone_. So clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan and just lost your wife too, so you're selling up. Wasn't a difficult leap." The man replies with a smile.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?"

"I've got my eye on a nice little place in Central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We meet there tomorrow evening, seven o'clock. Sorry, got to dash."

"Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat."

"Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name. And I have a baby to consider." John replies, looking at his daughter asleep in the carrier.

"I know you were an army doctor and were invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you, but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him—possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. And I know you're worried you're going to fail your daughter, trust me, you won't. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. Afternoon." Sherlock smiles before heading for the door.

"Is he …" John starts to ask but Mike interrupts him.

**"**Yeah. He's always like that." He replies with a smile.

John quirks an eyebrow and actually feels a smile tug on his lips.

"I must be mad. I'm ___actually _considering taking him up on the offer."

"Good luck, John." Mikes pats his shoulder before walking away.

John shakes his head and allows a little giggle to escape him.

"Bloody mad indeed." He says to himself.


	4. 221B Baker Street

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Four: 221B Baker Street**

**AN:**** So here's a slight adjustment to A Study In Pink. I've also skipped parts as we've all seen Sherlock so there's no need for me to write about every single thing. Hope you like it xxxxx**

"Hello."

"Ah, Mr Holmes."

"Sherlock, please. You walked here with …" Sherlock asks, pointing at John's cane and then to the baby carrier on John's right arm.

"Yes, I did. Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive." John replies, immediately changing the subject.

Sherlock watches John for a second before replying.

"Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she's given me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.

"Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?" John asks surprised.

"Oh, no, I ensured it." Sherlock smiles, walking to the front door.

"Sherlock!" A lovely woman greets with a smile and a hug.

"Mrs Hudson, Dr John Watson. And a … baby."

John gives Sherlock a look of confusion over the younger man's use of the word_baby_.

"Hello. Come in."

"Thank you."

"Shall we...?"

"Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed."

"Yes. Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely. So I went straight ahead and moved in." "Soon as we get this rubbish cleaned up." The two men say at the same time and John gives Sherlock a puzzled look before continuing.

"So this is all..."

"Well, obviously I can straighten things up a bit."

"Yeah, that would be a good idea considering the baby."

Sherlock nods in agreement, walking over to the mantelpiece.

"That's a skull." John says suddenly, looking back at Sherlock.

"Friend of mine. When I say friend..."

"What do you think, then, Dr Watson? There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms." Mrs Hudson says with a wink.

"Of course we'll be needing two." John replies, indicating to Harriet who is still asleep in her carrier.

"Oh, yes, of course." Mrs Hudson replies, blushing a little before leaving the room.

"I looked you up on the internet last night."

"Anything interesting?"

"Found your website. The Science Of Deduction."

"What did you think?"

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"

"Yes. And I can read your military career in your face and your leg and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone."

"How?" John asks, curious to know if what the young man is saying is actually true.

"What about these suicides, then, Sherlock? I thought that'd be right up your street. Three exactly the same. " Mrs Hudson re-enters the room, handing a bottle of milk to John.

"Four. There's been a fourth. And there's something different this time."

"Thank you." John replies, picking up Harriet and gently placing the bottle to her mouth.

"Where?" Sherlock asks the Inspector, hearing his arrival up the stairs.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens." The Inspector replies immediately, not taking the slightest notice of John or the baby in his arms.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me otherwise something different. "

"You know how they never leave notes?"

"Yeah."

"This one did. Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?"

"Anderson."

"Anderson doesn't work well with me."

"Well, he won't be your assistant. "

"I need an assistant." Sherlock growls, finally turning to look at the Inspector.

"Will you come?" The Inspector asks with a resigned sigh.

"Not in a police car, I'll be right behind."

"Thank you." The Inspector immediately leaves, still having not noticed John.

"Brilliant! Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas. Mrs Hudson, I'll be late. Might need some food."

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper." Mrs Hudson calls from the kitchen.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" Sherlock exclaims as he runs down the stairs.

"Look at him, dashing about... My husband was just the same. But you're more the sitting-down type, I can tell. I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg." Mrs Hudson says affectionately.

"Damn my leg! Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing..." John exclaims before cutting off to prevent from scaring Harriet.

"I understand, dear, I've got a hip."

"Cup of tea'd be lovely. Thank you."

"Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper."

"Couple of biscuits too, if you've got them." John chuckles softly.

"Not your housekeeper!"

"You're a doctor. In fact, you're an Army doctor." Sherlock's voice breaks the silence in the living room as he re-enters.

"Yes." John replies, immediately at attention.

"Any good?" Sherlock asks, as he slips on his gloves.

"Very good." John gently places Harriet back in her carrier and stands up straight.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then. Violent deaths."

"Well, yes."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet?"

"Of course. Yes. Enough for a lifetime, far too much."

"Want to see some more?"

"Oh, God, yes." John smiles, following Sherlock as he heads for the stairs. "Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out."

"Both of you?"

"Impossible suicides? Four of them? Not point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!"

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent." Mrs Hudson admonishes, as Sherlock hugs her goodbye.

"Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!"

"Can you take care of Harriet for me, please?" John asks as Sherlock runs out of the door.

"Of course I can. I love children. Go on now."

"Thank You, Mrs Hudson." John replies, running out the door after Sherlock.

"Taxi." The younger man calls, hailing the cab down and opening the door for John.

x..x

"Okay, you've got questions." Sherlock breaks the silence that has fell over the taxi.

"Yeah, where are we going?"

"Crime scene, obviously. Next?"

"Who are you? What do you do?" John asks, staring at the young man.

"What do you think?"

"I'd say private detective…" John replies unsurely, seeing if Sherlock will give any clue.

"But?"

"But the police don't go to private detective."

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job." Sherlock replies, still staring out the window.

"What does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"The police don't consult amateurs." John replies.

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised."

"Yes, how _did _you know?"

"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room said trained at Bart's, so Army doctor – obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan – Afghanistan or Iraq."

"You said I had a therapist."

"You've got a psychosomatic limp – of _course _you've got a therapist. Then there's your brother."

"Hmm?"

Sherlock takes John's phone from him and begins examining it.

"Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but you're looking for a flatshare – you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next bit's easy. You know it already.

"The engraving." John replies with a slight smile.

"Harry Watson: clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. _Could _be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently – this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble then – six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left _him_, he would have kept it. People do – sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left _her_. He gave the phone to _you_: that says he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help: that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you _don't _like his drinking."

"How can you _possibly _know about the drinking?" John asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone; never see a drunk's without them." Sherlock replies with a smile before handing the phone back to John.

"What about my thoughts on my daughter?"

"At your wife's funeral you were looking at her with a solemn expression. That could be explained by the loss of your wife but no, it was more than that. The sadness was in your eyes too. And, you hold her as though someone might take her away, which says that you're afraid someone thinks you're a bad father and do so."

John falls silent and its Sherlock who breaks the silence again.

_"_There you go, you see – you were right."

"_I_ was right? Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs."

"That ... was amazing." John smiles and lets a little chuckle escape

"Do you think so?" Sherlock asks, giving John a surprised look

"Of _course _it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary.

"That's not what people normally say.

"What do people normally say?" John asks, still chuckling.

"Piss off!"

The two are silent for a moment before they burst into a fit of laughter.

x..x

After the crime scene, Sherlock takes John to the restaurant so that John can have something to eat.

"People don't _have_arch-enemies." John says suddenly.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asks, staring out of the window.

"In real life. There _are _no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen."

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull."

"So who did I meet?"

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?"

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like... Girlfriends, boyfriends..."

"Yes, well, as I was saying – dull."

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area."

"Mm." John nods in agreement as he continues to eat his food. And then suddenly, a thought occurs to him. "Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?"

"Which is fine, by the way."

"I _know _it's fine."

"So you've got a boyfriend then?" John asks, looking up at the man from the corner of his eye.

"No."

"Right. Okay. Not with anyone." John replies with a slight smile and then it falters, "Like me."

"John, um ... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any ..."

"No. No, I'm not asking. No. I've just lost my wife." John interrupts, an almost bitter edge in his tone.

"Good." Sherlock replies, looking back out the window again.

x..x

"Listen, about before." John finally breaks the awkward silence that has fell over the flat since

their return from the university and the incident with the cabbie. "You should know, I wasn't asking you out. I … um … thought that as we're going to be living together that we should know … things about each other. Like I said, I've just lost my wife and it's not like I can get over that in a few hours."

"Not an issue, John. Think nothing more of it."

"Good. Well, I'm just going to take Harriet to bed. I can come back if you like." John says awkwardly.

"Don't feel that you need to keep me company, John. You can go to bed, I'll be quite alright."

"No, I meant … never mind. Night, Sherlock." John replies, picking Harriet up and heading to his bedroom.

"He's a bloody weird one, that one, isn't he, Harry?" He asks the little girl as he lays her on the bed. "Oh well, it's better than being in that big house all on our own, isn't it?" He chuckles to himself and curls up with his daughter in his arms.

About an hour later, John falls asleep still holding Harriet in his arms as Sherlock decides to check in on the doctor. Usually, he wouldn't care for anyone else but for some reason, John Watson intrigues the young detective.

Sherlock watches the doctor with his daughter and wonders what a love like that must be like. Just as Sherlock's watching John, he sees the little girl start to roll out of John's arms and knows that she will probably hit the floor. He moves from the door to the bed in four big steps and catches Harriet in his arms, handling her as carefully as he would any of his experiments. He gives her a gently rock and her eyes start to flutter shut again.

Just as Harriet falls back to sleep, John's eyes start to flutter open and he makes a soft groan before blinking rapidly and looking at the figure crouched next to his bed.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, sorry, John. I was coming to … see if … the baby needed anything and she started rolling out of your arms so I … caught her." Sherlock replies awkwardly, holding Harriet out for John.

John's eyes go wide and he grabs hold of Harriet, trying to see if there are any bruises or cuts.

"Thank you, Sherlock. That was really _nice_ of you." He replies, finally looking at Sherlock properly and giving him a smile.

"Yes, well. Nothing to worry about … night, John." Sherlock replies, hurrying out of the room.

"Night, Sherlock." John smiles, getting up to place his daughter back in her cot.


	5. Life With Sherlock Holmes

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Five: Life With Sherlock Holmes**

**AN:**** So next chapter up people. Hope you liked the last one. Sorry, I had to have Sherlock being protective yet awkward :) xxxxx**

Two weeks pass and neither man mentions the events of their first night together, until today that is.

"Sherlock, that night after the Study In Pink case, why did you come to check on Harriet?" John asks suddenly, placing his cup of tea down on the desk.

"After the _what _case?" Sherlock asks with a hint of distaste, but doesn't open his eyes or move from his lying position on the couch.

"The Study In Pink, that's what I called it. For the blog."

"Ah, yes. The _blog_."

"Sherlock. Stop avoiding the question."

"Well, I … I just thought that … isn't that what normal people do?"

"Not if it's not their child, it isn't."

"Oh." Sherlock replies, finally opening his eyes.

"You weren't coming to check on Harriet, were you?" John asks, a smile forming on his lips.

"Of course I was, John. Surely you don't think I'd check on _you_, do you? You're a grown man, I know you can take care of yourself." Sherlock says, staring at the ceiling.

"Alright then." John replies with a smile.

"Why are you smiling?" Sherlock asks, sitting bolt upright.

"No reason." John replies, now grinning.

"Stop it."

"Nope." John smirks into his cup of tea.

"John, that is rather annoying." Sherlock replies, a frown forming on his face.

"It's fine, Sherlock. It was a nice thing." John replies, finally looking at Sherlock and giving him a soft smile.

"How boring." Sherlock drawls, flopping back into a lying position on the couch.

"You _really_ don't understand how caring works, do you?"

"Caring is not an advantage, John. Do not mistake me for someone you _cares_." Sherlock replies, spitting out the last word like venom.

"Of course, the famous rule for the Holmes'. I _almost _forgot." John remarks, an edge to his tone.

"I'm sorry if I led you to believe anything different." Sherlock says, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Yes, God forbid, _Sherlock Holmes_ may care for something _other _than himself." John responds bitterly, putting his cup down and getting up to leave.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asks softly, looking up at John over the arm of the couch.

_God forbid he actually looks cute doing it._ John thinks before mentally shaking himself and replying, "Going to feed my _daughter_, if I'm finished babysitting you."

John storms off as Sherlock replies, "I'm not a _child_, John."

"Of course you aren't, Sherlock." Comes John's response as he shuts the bedroom door.

Sherlock huffs and throws his arm back over his eyes again.

x..x

"I think I'm going to murder him in his sleep, Harry." John says to his daughter, who giggles in response. "Honestly, I am. He's so insufferable and a _complete _pain in the arse."

He picks his daughter up and begins pacing the room with her in his arms, carrying on the conversation.

"I feel like I have two children, not one. And he's so dramatic. It's like live theatre being around him. The flailing coat and the _throwing_ himself on the couch like some damsel in distress. You're just lucky you don't have to spend time with him. I mean, sure, the cases are great. I love them. Well, the excitement and being needed but _he_ is just a little too dramatic about everything. The ways his eyes sparkle and his face lights up when he's finally figured something out though, it's … it's beautiful. God, what am I saying, Harry? Listen to your daddy going on like a mad man, eh. Maybe his madness is contagious." He continues on, smiling at his daughter, who just smiles or giggles in response.

"You do realise that the child can't understand a word you're saying, right?" Sherlock interrupts, standing at the door.

"Jesus, Sherlock. Learn to knock. And besides, it's good for her. Soothing, in fact." John replies, stopping pacing and glaring at Sherlock.

"Of course." Sherlock scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"How much of that did you hear, anyway?"

"Enough."

"And what's _enough_?"

"Let's just say I got here when you were mid pace. So, _enough_." Sherlock replies with a smile, walking back to the living room.

"Sherlock! This conversation isn't over, ya know." John shouts after the retreating man, following him back to the living room.

"I know it's not. But why don't we leave it anyway." Sherlock says calmly, sitting at the desk.

"No, I want to know what you heard." John replies, shifting Harriet so she's on his shoulder.

"I told you …"

"No, you said you heard what I said mid pace. I don't even know what that is."

"That's because you're an idiot." Sherlock replies, receiving a glare from John. "Don't be like that, practically everyone is."

John just sighs and walks to the kitchen, intent on making his daughter her morning feed.

After a few moments he struggles to juggle both Harriet and the ingredients for the milk.

"Sherlock, can you hold Harriet for me while I make her a bottle, please?" John shouts into the living room and after hearing Sherlock's response of "boring", is about to consider another option but Sherlock enters the room anyway and holds his hands out for the baby.

"You are _not _holding my daughter like that." John replies, gesturing with his eyes at Sherlock's outstretched arms. "Here. Put your arms like this …" John adds, moving into Sherlock's personal space and trying to shift Sherlock's arms into a cradle-like position. "Now, you need to support her head so, put your hand here and then this arm here and … there, you're holding a baby."

John moves back out of Sherlock's personal space and smiles.

Sherlock, for all his genius, looks confused and awkward but that doesn't stop John turning his back on him and starting to make up Harriet's bottle.

"How can this be a safe position?" Sherlock asks, staring at the baby in his arms.

John doesn't turn around but replies, "Because you're supporting her head and at this stage of her life, her spine isn't as strong as ours so she needs the extra support."

Harriet, who had begun falling back to sleep during John's pacing, suddenly wakes up and upon seeing a man who isn't her father, begins to wail loudly.

"John, what do I do? She's wailing. John!" Sherlock asks, trying to hand her back.

"Stop screaming for starters, Sherlock. And just rock her gently, I'm nearly finished."

Sherlock does as he's told; moving the baby into his arms properly and gently rocking her, while pacing the living room.

"John, she's still crying. It's not working."

"It doesn't work in milliseconds, Sherlock. It takes a couple of minutes."

So Sherlock continues to rock the little girl and begins talking to her, "Hello, Harriet. I'm Sherlock. Can you say Sherlock? Don't worry, daddy's in the kitchen making you breakfast. He loves you, you see. Daddy. Daddy loves you, very much. And that's why he puts up with your screaming …"

John is about to chide Sherlock for talking to his daughter like that but as he turns around, the words vanish, leaving a little glimmer of pride for the young man. Because despite his words, Sherlock is speaking in a soft voice and giving the child such a … an almost _caring _expression that John can't think to tell him off now.

"… and you're very lucky, Harriet. Because daddy has to take care of you all by himself but he won't complain because he's your daddy and that's what he's supposed to do. And your daddy isn't an alcoholic, abusive man. Not like mine was, which makes you very lucky indeed." Sherlock continues on, oblivious to John staring at him from the kitchen door until he suddenly speaks.

"Careful. Start acting like that and the whole world might go to hell. Can't have Sherlock Holmes being all nice and sweet to a baby now, can we?" John replies, a smile gracing his features.

Sherlock considers his words for a moment and is about to make a snide remark back, when he sees John's face. A smile that he had only seen maybe, twice, since they'd been living together.

Despite himself, he smiles back, still gently rocking little Harriet.

"Oh, sorry. Here." Sherlock replies, walking back over to John and holding Harriet out for him.

"You can feed her if you want." John suggests and he doesn't know why, it's not like _he _is Harriet's dad and they're raising a child together. "If you want, that is?"

And surprisingly to both men, Sherlock asks, "How?"

"Um, here. Sit down here and then just hold the bottle up like this and just make sure she doesn't swallow any air." John replies, handing Sherlock the bottle and positioning it properly.

"Well, this is quaint." A voice suddenly interrupts the moment.

"What are you doing here, Mycroft?"

"I came to check on my baby brother and his new … _friend_." Mycroft replies, looking from his brother to John; analysing him with his eyes. "And I see you're making somewhat of a _family_ together. When's the wedding, might I ask?" Mycroft adds, a snide smirk crossing his lips.

"I was only making an attempt at making a _difficult_ situation work, Mycroft." Sherlock growls, staring his brother down.

"So my daughter is a _difficult_ situation now, is she?" John asks, staring at Sherlock.

"Aww, should I leave you two lovers in private while you have your little tiff?" Mycroft asks, that snide smirk back on his lips. "What a lovely little _thing, _she is." He adds, walking a few steps forward and looking at the little baby.

Sherlock's arms instinctively grip Harriet a little tighter and Mycroft's smirk falters.

John looks from Mycroft back to Sherlock and instantly notices the change.

He clears his throat and actually growls, "If you don't _mind_, my daughter needs feeding. I'm sure you can see yourself out."

And with that Mycroft stares at the two men, looks down at the little girl and then heads for the door.

"Goodbye, Sherlock, John."

Sherlock loosens his grip slightly and John looks back at Sherlock.

"What was that?"

"My brother being snide as always."

"No, I don't mean _him. _I mean, you. Why did you, well, do that?" He asks, gesturing to Harriet.

"Do what?"

"Hold her tighter when Mycroft came closer."

"I didn't."

"Yes, you did, you …"

"Hello, boys. Aww look at you two, bonding with the baby." Mrs Hudson interrupts, giving a sweet smile. "Do you need anything? Milk, maybe something edible?"

"Milk would be fine, Mrs Hudson. Thank you." John replies, still staring Sherlock down.

"Alright then. Just this once, I'm not your housekeeper. Aww, look at her. Such a beautiful little girl. But with a father like you, John, what do you expect." Mrs Hudson replies, stroking the girl's head softly. "I'll be back in a little while then. Have fun, boys."

And with that, Mrs Hudson walks back out the room and out the front door.

"See? You didn't do it with Mrs Hudson. Maybe because you don't see her as a threat. But with Mycroft, you gripped her so tight I thought I was about to have to take her to A&E for broken bones."

"I didn't, John!" Sherlock growls, glaring at John.

"Sherlock, it's okay. It's natural to feel protective of a child." John replies softly, kneeling down in front of Sherlock and stroking Harriet's face.

"Of your own child, maybe, John. But not of someone else's." Sherlock tries to snap, but it comes out as a sad whisper.

"Well, you can be … uncle Sherlock, if you want?" John smiles sweetly, looking up into Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock just stares back and both men are pretty sure the other has stopped breathing.

John places a hand on the younger man's knee and Sherlock flicks his eyes to it then back to John. He drops the bottle over the arm of the chair, shifts Harriet into one arm and leans in to kiss John.

The kiss is only experimental and quick, before Sherlock pulls back and blushes slightly.

"… Sorry about that." Sherlock says suddenly, clearing his throat a little. "I … I never meant to … do _that_." He adds, looking back to Harriet.

"Um, yeah … so as I said before, hold the bottle up like this then she won't swallow any air." John replies, standing back up with the bottle in hand and gently guiding it to Harriet's mouth, conveniently avoiding touching Sherlock in anyway.

"Mm." Sherlock responds, still staring at the little girl.

"I'm just gonna … make a cuppa. Want one?" John asks distractedly, making his way to the kitchen.

"I'll make you one anyway, shall I?" John asks, knowing he still won't get a reply either way.

A few minutes later John returns with two cups of tea and places one cup on the desk next to Sherlock.

Silence falls over the flat as Sherlock continues to give Harriet her bottle and John lets out a long sigh.

"John."

"Yes, Sherlock."

"Why do you see caring as something good?"

John looks at Sherlock, trying to figure out what's going on in that mad brain of his.

"Because … well, um. It … it proves that you're human and it's comforting, I guess. It makes you feel _something_." John replies unsurely.

"But feelings can hurt and make you weak."

"Yes, they do. But when they are returned, they're good. And we should all feel weak sometimes, that's how we know that we will be strong again. No one likes to feel weak or get hurt but it's a part of life, Sherlock. It's just what happens." John replies, resting his arms on his knees and looking Sherlock in the eyes.

"I don't think I can return those feelings, John. I've always been told that caring is a great disadvantage. You can get hurt and become compromised. I … I'm afraid, John." Sherlock whispers, looking back down at Harriet.

"What?" John asks unsurely, before walking back over to Sherlock and kneeling in front of him again. "Sherlock, it's okay to be afraid. That's how you know it's real. I'm not asking … well, I don't _know _what I'm asking for in terms of this … arrangement. But I won't force you into anything. Whatever you want, I'll help you with it. If you want to be uncle Sherlock then we'll transition you into it slowly. If you want," He gestures between them before continuing, "then we'll do that slowly too."

"I don't know what I want, John. I never imagined …" Sherlock breaks off, looking up at John.

"What?" John presses gently, his eyes softening.

"I never imagined that someone would care … about me. I mean, I know Mycroft does, in his own way but everyone else sees me as a freak. I didn't think that … I could actually be liked." Sherlock replies, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Maybe if you weren't such an annoying dick all the time then you would be liked." John replies with a smile.

Sherlock is about to bite back but looks up and sees John's smile and finds himself smiling in return.

"I'll put her back to bed for a bit." John adds after a moment, picking his daughter gently up out of Sherlock's arms, his fingers grazing Sherlock's slightly.

"Mm." Sherlock replies, picking up his cup of tea and leaning back in his chair.

John nods in response, carrying his daughter back to the bedroom.

"Sleep well, my angel. Daddy loves you." John smiles at his daughter, laying her in the cot as her eyes begin to drift close.

"You always tell her you love her." Sherlock interrupts again.

"Jesus, Sherlock! Can't you knock? Twice now, in the same day." John exclaims, jumping out of his skin for the second time.

"Apologies, I just wondered if you were hungry?" Sherlock asks awkwardly.

"Yeah, why not. Angelo's?" John replies with a smile.

"Angelo's." Sherlock agrees, mirroring John's smile before leaving the room.

_Life with Sherlock Holmes is definitely anything but boring. _John thinks, smiling to himself and heading down the stairs.


	6. Realisations

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Six: Realisations**

"Morning, John." Sherlock says, upon hearing John enter the room.

"Have you been there all night?" John asks, rubbing his eyes as he walks into the room.

Sherlock looks up from his position on the couch and sees John stretching and yawning; his t-shirt rising and showing off some of his stomach. Sherlock gulps and throws his arm over his eyes again.

"You alright, Sherlock?" John asks, looking over at the young detective having heard him gulp quite audibly.

"Yes, yes, fine." Sherlock snaps, still not looking at John.

"I'll make us a brew, shall I, Sher?" John replies, rolling his eyes and heading to the kitchen.

_Great, he's in one of his moods again. So much for a peaceful day with Harriet. Hum, I might take her to the park. Leave the moody bastard to mope. Yeah, that would be nice. Me and Harry have barely been out since we moved in here. _John thinks as he makes two cups of tea, knowing Sherlock will probably not even look at his own.

_Ah well, it's the thought that counts, as mother used to say. Maybe he'll show some appreciation by not shooting the walls or leaving his experiments in the … _

"Sherlock! There's another _bloody_ head in the fridge! Why?!" John exclaims, slamming the door shut. _For fuck's sake. Why does he do this?_

xxxxxxxxx

Sherlock doesn't reply as he's currently in his mind palace.

_John's t-shirt rising and showing off his stomach. That well-toned, nicely tanned stomach that you'd just like to run your tongue… Stop, Sherlock! You don't have feelings for John! Your hand didn't tingle yesterday when his fingers gently grazed yours and you didn't feel aroused before when his t-shirt … Stop It! _

"_You alright, Sherlock?" John's sweet voice asking softly about your well-being. So kind and considerate, and so gorg … Stop torturing yourself, Sherlock._

"_Yes, yes, fine." You really shouldn't have snapped at him, he was only concerned. It's only natural, he's your friend. _

_I don't have friends!_

"_I'll make us a brew, shall I, Sher?" Sher? Did he realise he said that? Maybe it's just a nickname, like Harry or Johnny. _

_Maybe, it's more. You know what Sher means don't you, Sherlock? It's a word for darling or dear. What does that tell you, mmm? _

_Shut up! I can't think!_

xxxxxxxxx

"Shut up! I can't think!" Sherlock shouts out loud.

"Sherlock. I haven't spoken for ten minutes. I tried getting your attention but you weren't listening so … I gave up. I made you a brew." John replies, the last might coming out a bit sheepish and causing him to blush a little.

"What were you saying, John?" Sherlock asks suddenly, his eyes snapping open and fixing the doctor's own.

"I … Never mind, doesn't matter, Sherlock." John replies, looking back to the morning paper.

"You made me a brew?" And both John _and_ Sherlock are surprised that it actually sounds like a question.

John looks up for a moment and then re-composes himself before settling to read the paper again, "Good observation, that." He simply replies, sipping his brew.

"Thank you." Sherlock whispers, picking up the warm drink and looking at the floor.

John's head snaps up and he watches Sherlock, _watching _the floor.

"You're … welcome." He smiles, even though Sherlock can't see him but the younger man looks up and smiles back.

"I was thinking of taking Harriet to the park. Seeing as you're in a mood." John adds, still scanning the paper.

"I'm not in a _mood._" Sherlock snaps, fixing John with a glare.

John can feel Sherlock's gaze burning him and he looks up with a small smile, "Of course not."

Sherlock rolls his eyes in return before going back to sipping his drink.

A silence falls over the room before it's interrupted by Mycroft.

"Hello, boys. Oh, still in the middle of your spat are we?" The older Holmes greets with a snide smirk.

"Shut up, Mycroft." John jumps in with before Sherlock has a chance. "You really like pouring fuel on an already burning fire, don't you?" He snaps, taking his empty cup to the kitchen.

Sherlock just smirks into his cup.

Mycroft follows John into the kitchen, not paying any attention to his little brother, and closes the sliding doors behind him.

"It seems that we have gotten off on the wrong foot, Doctor Watson."

"Whose fault is that then?" John snaps back, focusing on scrubbing the cup so he doesn't _throw_ it at the older Holmes.

"If you have any intentions of _getting_ with my brother then you'd do well to stay on my good side." Mycroft replies calmly.

"_Stay on your good side? _ You're the one who walks in like a nervous time bomb all the time!" John actually shouts, finally looking at Mycroft.

"It's only been twice, Doctor Watson." Mycroft replies, still very calmly which worries John.

He can deal with anger and danger but calm, calm means deadly and he has a feeling that Mycroft is very _deadly_.

"So you don't deny it then, I see." Mycroft adds, before taking a seat at the dining table and placing his umbrella on his chair.

"Listen, I don't know what you _think_ is going on, but me and Sherlock are just friends. And we're barely that."

"I _think_ it's a little more than that, John."

"What would you know? You don't care for anyone. Neither does Sherlock."

"I would agree _normally_. But for some reason, Sherlock has grown _attached_ to you in such a short space of time. Which worries me."

"Why does it worry you? Because you won't be able to manipulate your brother anymore?"

"I don't intend on _manipulating_ my brother, Doctor …"

"Stop with the _Doctor Watson_! I know you don't respect me enough to use my title."

"On the contrary, I respect you immensely. Anyone who has managed to control and somewhat, _tame_ my little brother deserves great respect. He isn't an easy man to handle."

"Well, that's true."

"If you wish to be with him then you must do it on his terms …" Mycroft pauses to see of John will agree or disagree.

"Go on." The doctor simply replies.

"You must not push him. If he wants you, which is becoming very obvious, then he will attempt to do something _in time_ …"

"Wait, what do you mean _which is becoming very obvious_?"

"I have known my brother his whole life, he never become _attached_ to anything. But you, well, you're _different_."

Sherlock, who had been stood at the door listening the whole time, walks in.

"Stay away from him, Mycroft." Sherlock practically shouts, standing between his older brother and John.

"My point exactly." Mycroft simply replies, standing up and grabbing his umbrella. "Remember what I said, John. Goodbye, dear brother. Doctor Watson."

And with that, Mycroft walks out of the kitchen and down the stairs.

"You were listening the whole time." John says suddenly, it's not a question.

"Yes."

"So, is he right? Do you … ya know …"

"Yes." Sherlock replies, still staring at the now open doors.

"Oh … So …"

"So _what_, John?" Sherlock snaps, his head snapping back to glare at John.

"For God's sake. Do I have to spell it out for you? Do you like me? As more than a friend, I mean?"

"Yes." Sherlock whispers, looking at the floor.

"Then what do we do about it?"

Sherlock doesn't reply, he just walks back into the living room and picks up his mobile.

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.00am**_

_I need some advice_

_SH_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.05am**_

_I'm in a meeting, Sherlock_

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.08am**_

_It's of extreme importance_

_SH_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.12am**_

_Be quick and to the point_

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.17am**_

_I've developed some feelings for my_

_flatmate. He wants to know what_

_the next step is_

_SH_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.20am**_

_That Doctor Watson? He seems like_

_a nice guy, and if he likes you back _

_then tell him. Don't be, how do you _

_put it, oh yeah, an idiot. If he wants you_

_too, God help him, then don't let him walk _

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.25am**_

_And no, I don't mean break his legs or_

_whatever. Just tell him! Now, I have to_

_go, I'm meeting with some Government_

_Official. Good luck_

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.27am**_

_You're the one who needs the luck, _

_Lestrade_

_SH_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_**11**__**th**__** February 2010 10.29am**_

_What? Never mind_

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

"What are you doing, Sherlock?" John interrupts suddenly, walking back into the living room.

"I was just seeing if Lestrade had any good cases for us. I asked him for anything above a seven but he has a meeting so nothing yet." Sherlock replies in a rush, causing John to give him a look.

"Lestrade is the DI we met at the first crime scene right? Silver hair? He seems nice."

"Yes, obviously … What do you mean _nice_?"

"Careful, Sher, you sound jealous." John replies with a smirk.

"Sher?" Sherlock asks without thinking.

"Sorry. Um, I guess you probably don't like nicknames, do you? Never mind." John replies awkwardly, looking down at the floor as a blush creeps up his cheeks.

"I … You're right, never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing, it doesn't matter." Sherlock shakes his head slightly and stares out of the window.

"Sherlock." John pushes gently.

"Shh, thinking."

"Right. I'm going to take Harry to the park, I'll see you later, yeah." John gives a sort of smile and then goes to awkwardly hug Sherlock, before deciding against it and just gripping his shoulder gently and heading for the door.

Sherlock lets out the breath he had been holding and spins on his heels, "John." The name leaves his mouth before he's even realised it.

"Yeah?" John stops on his way to the door and looks back at Sherlock.

"Mm, can I … come with you? If that's alright? It's just … isn't that what _normal_ couples do?" Sherlock asks awkwardly, bringing a hand to his face as a blush starts to collar his cheeks.

"Mm, yeah, they do. Why? Is that what we are?" John asks, trying to sound curious rather than hopeful and desperate.

"If that is what you want, John. Do you find me attractive?"

"It's not all about looks, Sher. But yes, I guess I do."

"I know my personality is less _desirable_, but it's … manageable, right?" Sherlock whispers, looking up at John with hopeful eyes.

"I'll get used to it. Plus, as long as you're okay with Harry then I could be _persuaded_." John replies, a suggestive smile pulling at his lips.

"Doctor Watson, are you _propositioning _me?" Sherlock squeaks, his blush deepening.

"I might be." John's smirk is definite now and he moves over into Sherlock's personal space again.

Sherlock's breath hitches as he stares down at his flat mate, trying to deduce him.

John chuckles and places his hands on Sherlock's chest, getting onto his tiptoes to kiss the younger man.

Sherlock let's his brain shut down for a few moments and allows his body to take control, wrapping his arms around the smaller man.

"You are such a wonder, Watson." Sherlock smiles sweetly as the kiss breaks.

"I'll be sure to keep you on your toes then, _Sher_." John smiles back, emphasising his nickname for his new soon-to-be-lover.

"I knew that wasn't just a nickname." Sherlock grins, kissing John again softly.

"But of course, you don't like nicknames."

"I could learn to love them when they come from you." Sherlock replies honestly, staring into John's eyes.

And so John is falling for his mad, eccentric, beautiful flat mate and he honestly doesn't care how much of a fool that makes him.


	7. Sleep Tight, My Love

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Seven: Sleep Tight, My Love**

"I'm going to work. Are you okay to look after Harry?" John asks, grabbing his mobile and flat keys.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Sherlock asks nervously, looking at John worriedly.

"You'll be fine, Sher. Just don't try and experiment on her, okay?" John grins, leaning down to kiss his partner's forehead.

"It's been two months, John and you've never left me alone with her. Can't you postpone work until tomorrow or … permanently. We don't exactly need the money." Sherlock replies desperately.

"Sher, you know I'm not happy with Mycroft paying our rent. I don't want him thinking that I'm only with you because it's an easy life."

"Ha, I don't care what Mycroft thinks."

"Yes, but I do. Now, Harriet needs a feed at ten, two and five. I should be home by her next feed. The bottles are all set up ready, before you ask." John replies with a smile, kissing his partner before he can argue. "Have fun."

John makes a quick check on Harry before heading down the stairs.

x..x

"So, are you going to start crying when I pick you up or are you going to behave?" Sherlock asks the baby, who is currently looking at him curiously. "Perfect, I've turned into your father. Well, maybe you'll be a clever child and will be talking in six or seven more months."

Sherlock picks Harry up and carries her to the living room to give the baby her morning feed.

Harry suckles gently on the bottle; curious eyes watching the young detective as he stares back at her.

"So, good milk is it? Nice and warm?" Sherlock asks the baby, the silence annoying him too much.

"What shall we do today, Harriet? Do you want to help Sherlock do some experiments?" Sherlock asks with a smile before remembering John's words. "Don't worry, you won't be part of them. I mean _help_ me. Well, technically I suppose I mean _watch_ me do the experiments and behave … But that will be fun, won't it?"

Harry continues to suckle on the bottle and stare intently on Sherlock as he rambles on.

Suddenly, she starts coughing and Sherlock freezes; trying to remember what John does when he's feeding her and this happens. He pulls the bottle away from her mouth and carefully sits her up so that she can breathe better.

"There we go. All better." Sherlock smiles at Harriet softly.

Just then, Harriet makes a face and this puzzles Sherlock.

"Oh, that's your burp face. I remember. Um, oh, yeah. Over the shoulder and a gentle pat, isn't it?"

Sherlock rests the baby on his shoulder and gently pats her back until she finally burps loudly in his ear. Despite himself, Sherlock smiles and even allows a small chuckle to escape.

"Feel better?" Sherlock asks, resting Harriet back in his arms again.

Harriet seems to smile in response and Sherlock returns it with a wide grin.

x..x

"Right, so remember, don't tell Daddy what happened to the kitchen table. Sherlock _didn't_ test a chemical reaction on the table." Sherlock tells the little baby curled up on the couch.

Harriet makes a gurgling noise in response and Sherlock smiles warmly.

Sherlock quickly cleans up the experiment and tries to hide the burn stain on the kitchen table.

"There, all done. You're not that bad, really. Not for a gurgling, non-speaking human, that is. You're not nearly as boring as I thought you'd be either." Sherlock tells Harriet, picking her up and staring at her.

She makes a noise in response and Sherlock smiles again, laying her on his chest.

x..x

"Sherlock, I'm back. Sherlock?" The doctor asks the quiet flat, worry starting in his tone. "Sherlock! Where are …" John breaks off when he sees the sight in front of him.

Sherlock is in his usual position on his back on the couch but this time he's holding Harriet to his chest, his arms slightly slack from sleeping deeply.

"What _have_ you two been up to while I've been at work, huh?" John asks the two sleeping forms, smiling warmly at the sight.

He has a sudden thought and pulls out his mobile, snapping a quick picture of his two loves for any time he has to be away for a long period of time. Johns smiles again and pockets his phone, gently stroking Harriet's head.

The baby murmurs in her sleep and Sherlock unconsciously grips her a little tighter, murmuring her name in his sleep.

"My two beautiful darlings. So who tired who out first, hey."

"Jawn." Sherlock murmurs, his heavy eyelids fluttering open.

"Yes, Sher. I'm here, love." John replies with a soft smile, lifting Sherlock's legs slightly so he can sit on the couch.

"When you get back?" Sherlock's sleepy voice asks, blue eyes straining to stay open.

"Only a few minutes ago." John replies softly, stroking Sherlock's curls and getting a contented purr out of him.

"Fell asleep. Tired out … experiments … babysitting …" Sherlock mumbles, trying to stifle a yawn.

"I know, love." John replies, moving his hand from Sherlock's curls to his cheekbone.

"Put Harry to bed? Stay here if you want." Sherlock continues to mumble.

"We'll stay here, Sher." John smiles, trying to shift into a comfortable position next to Sherlock.

"No room. Bed better."

"We're both too knackered and there's no point risking waking Harry up. Besides, I'm sure we can make this work." John replies, not entirely sure if he's talking about their sleeping arrangements or their relationship.

"Could definitely work, Jawn. Me, you and baby. I like it." Sherlock mumbles and John is definitely certain he isn't just talking about sleeping arrangements.

John makes a mental note to store and treasure this moment; Sherlock's sleepy expression, his little girl asleep in their arms and the fact that Sherlock is happy with the relationship.

"Go to sleep, darling. We'll talk about it in the morning." John replies, yawning and curling up into Sherlock's arms.

"Love you, Jawn." Sherlock replies sleepily, resting his head against John's.

John's eyes snap open for a minute before he smiles softly, "I love you too, Sher."

He kisses the sleepy man's forehead and gently strokes his daughter's back; curling back up and throwing an arm protectively over the pair.

Sherlock hums in approval and snuggles down further and closer to John.

Silence falls over 221B as two men and a baby slip into blissful sleep, content with how their lives is turning out.


	8. We're Going Through Changes

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Eight: We're Going Through Changes**

The next morning John wakes up alone. He sighs to himself before noticing the cup of boiling tea, chocolate biscuits and a note. At first he thinks its Mrs Hudson doing, until he properly looks at the writing and it's definitely Sherlock's scrawl.

He cautiously sips the tea and notes that its right, in fact, it's perfect. He hums in approval and picks up the note.

_John,_

_I went to buy some shopping, I thought you needed a lie-in. _

_Harriet's been fed and I'll be back soon._

_Have a nice sleep and we'll talk when I get home._

_I … well you know._

_Sherlock _

_x_

John smiles warmly, _typical Sherlock. Well, maybe he'll say it one day._ John thinks, chuckling to himself and finishing his brew. He heads to the kitchen to wash his cup and pulls out his mobile.

_I love you, you idiot._

_John_

_x_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_Well that's gratitude_

_Sherlock_

_x_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_Thank you, Sher_

_John_

_x_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_You're welcome, John_

_Sherlock_

_x_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_Please say it back_

_John_

_x_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_Say what, John?_

_Sherlock_

_x_

_Sherlock. Please _

_John_

_x_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

When Sherlock doesn't text back after five minutes, John remembers what Mycroft said about not pushing the younger man to open up. That still doesn't stop the doctor from sighing loudly before he starts searching the cupboards for anything to eat. He decides to turn on the radio while he makes some jam on toast.

He hums along to the cheesy song on the radio and doesn't hear footsteps coming up the stairs or them heading to the kitchen.

The younger man stands at the doorway, listening to John hum away to some cheesy song and smiles warmly. After a few moments, he moves over to the doctor and wraps his arms around him; the motion of John swaying making him sway too.

John doesn't say anything or make any reaction to Sherlock's presence; he just sways to the music and chews on his toast.

"I love you too." Sherlock whispers in his ear, causing John to stop swaying and humming.

"What?" John asks softly, leaning back into Sherlock's chest.

"Don't make me repeat myself. You know how I hate that." It's supposed to sound annoyed but comes out more as a soft whisper.

"I didn't hear you the first time." John replies and Sherlock can hear the smile despite not being able to see it.

"I love you too." Sherlock repeats, resting his chin on John's head.

"I know." And now Sherlock can hear the smile turning into a grin, and he knows he should be annoyed but he just can't bring himself to be, so he just chuckles in response.

"Idiot." He adds after a few moments.

"Says the one." John replies, chuckling softly and squeezing Sherlock's hands.

"Shut up."

John just chuckles in response, leaning his head back onto Sherlock's shoulder to look at his partner.

Sherlock turns his head to meet John's eyes and kisses his forehead before resting his forehead against John's hair.

"What about Harriet?" John asks after a few minutes of silence.

"What about her?" Sherlock asks softly, looking at John.

"You won't get bored of her? I mean, it's gonna be a few more months until she can walk and then many more before she can talk. Won't you get bored?" John replies softly, looking up at his partner.

"How could I? She's your daughter, John. She's a by-product of you." Sherlock smiles back at his partner.

"So you're _actually_ taking to her then?" John grins at his partner.

"She isn't as boring as I thought she'd be. I made a mistake." Sherlock sniffs, looking out the kitchen window.

"Wait. Did Sherlock Holmes just admit to making a _mistake_?" John asks in a mock shocked tone.

"Yes, yes. Alright, don't rub it in." Sherlock sighs dramatically.

John chuckles and turns around in Sherlock's arms, "I love you, you idiot." He laughs.

"Are you going to keep calling me that?" Sherlock asks, trying not to smile.

"Only when you are one." John smiles at his partner, kissing him softly.

"So, in theory, I'm allowed to do the same?" Sherlock asks when the kiss is broken.

"You _always_ call me an idiot."

"Yes, I guess I do." Sherlock replies sadly.

"I don't mind just so long as it's not meant to hurt me." John smiles softly.

"How will I know if it does?"

"I'll tell you." John replies gently.

"Alright." Sherlock finally smiles in return.

"Shall we get Harry?"

"I'd like that, John." Sherlock replies, kissing John tentatively. "Um, sorry."

"I know this is still new to you, Sher and its okay. We'll go slow."

"I don't want to … go slow. We've being going slow for months now. I want to … move things along."

"Really, Sher? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. Come with me." John replies, gently pulling Sherlock back into the living room and sitting him on the couch.

"Before anything else, we'll start with kissing. So, um …" John replies awkwardly, recalling when he was twelve and had his first kiss with a girl.

"John, I need you. Tell me. What do I do with my hands? And where do I touch and not touch? And what about the actually kissing, do I use my tongue or not? And …" Sherlock rambles desperately.

"Sher, calm down. It's okay. I'll talk you through it. First of all, you can put your hands anywhere you want on me." John pauses and gives Sherlock a suggestive smile, making the younger man blush. "Secondly, you can use your tongue if you want. But it's not compulsory for a first kiss, we can get to that when you're ready."

"Okay."

"You ready?" John asks softly, placing a reassuring hand on Sherlock's knee.

"I'm ready."

"Okay. So we'll start with a peck. All you have to do is pucker your lips a little, lean forward and tilt your head." John replies, leaning in while he talks.

Sherlock does as he's told and their lips meet; causing a buzz to shoot down the younger man's spine.

John pulls away and smiles widely, giving a little chuckle.

"Next is more of a kiss. Same thing but you move your lips more."

John repeats the same process but this time he places a hand on Sherlock's neck and the other on his leg, while moving his lips slowly.

Sherlock can't think what to do with his hands and his mind panics, causing him to stiffen.

The doctor feels Sherlock's posture change and decides to help him out. He moves Sherlock's hand to his waist and the other round his back.

The younger man relaxes dramatically and hums in appreciation, pulling John closer.

Sherlock gets a little brave and flicks his tongue out experimentally, John opens his mouth to let Sherlock's tongue in and the younger man swipes it all round the inside of John's mouth, causing him to moan loudly.

After a few minutes, John pulls away slightly and smiles softly, his hand still resting on Sherlock's neck.

"You're a fast learner."

"You're a very patient and competent teacher, John."

"Oh, I'm nothing if not _patient_. Especially with you." John grins wickedly.

Sherlock scowls before asking, "John, can we … um … can we go somewhere else … like the … bedroom." He stammers softly, looking down at the floor.

"Um, Sher, don't you think that's a bit fast? I mean, we've just started on kissing, we don't have to do everything at once." John replies in a rush.

"John, I told you, I don't want slow. I want to do _everything_. And I want that … with _you_."

"I know, baby. But please, let's take this slow. We have plenty of time."

"Baby? Is that what partners call each other?"

John chuckles softly, _trust Sherlock to only listen to that part_.

"Some do. There's darling or sweetheart, love, babe and there's even honey. It just depends on preference."

"Babe and honey sound very teenager and a little bit girly. Darling is nice and baby's good too. I could even be okay with sweetheart and love. It's up to you what you want to call me. I don't know if … if I could return the favour though. I'm sorry, John."

"Don't worry, Sher. It's okay, I don't mind."

"Yes, but doesn't that make me a bad boyfriend?" Sherlock asks worriedly.

"Oh, baby, of course it doesn't. It just makes you, you." John replies softly, stroking Sherlock's cheek.

"Okay. So what's next?"

"Ah, well. I was hoping you wouldn't ask." John replies, looking at the floor awkwardly and beginning to blush.

"John. What is … Oh. Oh!" Sherlock exclaims, realising what John is trying to avoid.

"Have you ever tried _that_?" John asks, still feeling awkward.

"Only when it was necessary. Like when it meant saving some dignity." Sherlock replies matter-of-factly.

"Good." John sighs in relief, thankful he doesn't have to explain to Sherlock about giving himself 'a hand'.

"Can we try that? I've never done it for pleasure before." Sherlock whispers.

Despite the innocence of the words, the fact that Sherlock used the word _pleasure_, causes a noticeable twitch in John's pants.

John gulps loudly and shifts slightly so Sherlock can't see his reaction.

"Are you alright, John?" Sherlock asks worriedly.

"I'm fine. It's just ..." John breaks off, blushing dramatically.

Sherlock looks down at John's lap and immediately realises. "Oh, you've … right. Um, I could help, if you talk me through what you like."

Sherlock's words do nothing to prevent the growing erection and he has to bite his lip to prevent a moan escaping.

"John, you clearly need help with that and I think it would be better for both of us if _I _helped. You could teach me and I could give you something in return."

"Sherlock, stop. Please." John replies through gritted teeth, trying not to listen because he's afraid he'll take him up on the offer and end up pushing Sherlock too much.

"If that's how you feel." Sherlock whispers, standing up and heading for the door.

John jumps up and grabs his arm, practically throwing him onto the couch and climbing on top of the younger man.

"You know that's not how I _feel_, _Sher._" He replies, pressing his hips down to prove his point. "But don't blame me if I push you too far, remember, you asked for this." The doctor adds, unzipping Sherlock's pants and pulling them down to his knees.

"Jawn." Sherlock moans, gripping John's arms tightly in his hands. "It's … okay. Just do it … please." He continues to moan, bucking his hips up.

"Look at you, just begging for it. Have you ever fantasised about this, _Sher_?" John asks in a rough whisper in Sherlock's ear, but practically purring when he gets to Sherlock's name. "Is this what you imagined? Me on top of you on the couch? Ripping your clothes off and making you breathless in anticipation? Me making you moan my name when I touch you?" John continues on, pressing the palm of his hand into Sherlock's erection and causing the younger man to moan.

"Jawn. Please." Sherlock moans, bucking his hips up again.

"You're so beautiful like this. Panting and begging like a wanton little virgin. It's such a turn on, _Sher_. I want you like this all the time. I want to break you and put you back together, over and over again. And you'd let me, wouldn't you?"

Sherlock moans in agreement and John decides it's finally time to strip Sherlock of his modesty.

The younger man gasps as cold air hits his cock but he only has a moment to register it when a warm, wet mouth engulfs it and Sherlock thinks he might just have a heart attack at the rate his heart rate is speeding up so dramatically.

John licks teasingly and Sherlock bites his fist to stop himself from screaming. After a few licks, John pulls off of the younger man's cock and instead replaces it with his hand.

He starts stroking slowly for a few minutes before gradually speeding up into an average steady rhythm.

"Tell me what you want, _Sher_. I want to hear you say it." John says in a husky voice.

"I want … I want you to … faster." Sherlock stammers, trying to focus on the ability to speak.

"As you wish." John grins, speeding up until his hand seems to become numb and Sherlock's writhing, trying not to scream.

"Jawn. God. Oh, _fuck. _Jesus, Jawn." Sherlock moans breathlessly.

And the obscenity of Sherlock _actually_ swearing causes John to moan in reply, feeling his jeans tighten until they're impossibly uncomfortable.

"That's it, _Sher_. Let go, baby. Just let it go." John replies, his voice softening into an almost whisper.

"John, I ... I'm gonna … Jawn." Sherlock moans, fists gripping the sofa hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

Sherlock comes hard with an ear-piercing scream of John's name, his whole body rising off the couch before collapsing back onto it again.

"So beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. Amazing." John replies, laying quick kisses to Sherlock's face.

"Don't you … I need to … What about you?" Sherlock finally stammers out, breathlessly.

John moves Sherlock's hand to his crotch and Sherlock can feel the dampness of where John as already come.

"Uh, wow." Sherlock moans at the feel and throws his head back with a loud groan.

"Tired?" John asks softly, stroking Sherlock's cheek.

"Very. But, well worth it. Thank you … You were right."

"Right about what?" John asks, giving Sherlock a quizzical look.

"What you said before. I would let you break me. But _only_ you. No one else. Because I don't want anyone else to have that opportunity." Sherlock replies softly, looking John in the eyes.

"I'm sorry. I warned you that I might push you too far and I have. Sher, I'm so sorry." John whispers softly, tears stinging his eyes.

"I don't want you to be sorry, John. I want you to … Well, I just want you. And I want you to want me too." Sherlock almost snaps, hating confessing his feelings so openly.

"Of course I want you, sweetheart. I want everything about you. You're impossibly beautiful mind, you're elegant body, you're unusual soul but most of all, I want you're beating heart. Because I know it _beats_ inside that chest of yours and it's not just a block of ice like you'd have the world believe. I want _you._ Everything about _you_." John smiles softly, laying down next to Sherlock.

"I could own you. I could break you just as easily as you could break me. Except I know I could do more damage, John." Sherlock whispers, his voice threatening to break.

"But I know you won't. I know you wouldn't do that to me. I know you."

"Good." Sherlock simply replies, curling up into John's side. "I'm tired, John."

"Then sleep, my love. I'll be here when you wake." John replies, kissing Sherlock's forehead and dragging the throw off the back of the couch to cover over them and give them back some of their modesty.

x..x

For the two hours Sherlock sleeps, John does not. He goes over in his head what he said to Sherlock before and after their _moment_ on the couch. He nearly breaks down as the conversation echoes in his head.

"_Look at you, just begging for it. Have you ever fantasised about this, Sher? Is this what you imagined? Me on top of you on the couch? Ripping your clothes off and making you breathless in anticipation? Me making you moan my name when I touch you? __You're so beautiful like this. Panting and begging like a wanton little virgin. It's such a turn on, Sher. I want you like this all the time. I want to break you and put you back together, over and over again. And you'd let me, wouldn't you?"_

John nearly sobs at how badly he spoke to Sherlock. He treated him like some crude sex toy; someone he could just abuse and then leave without a second thought. Sherlock is certainly more than that to John. John's actually fell in love with this man. Something he thought wasn't possible after Mary.

"_I would let you break me. But only you. No one else. Because I don't want anyone else to have that opportunity."_

This man really _would_ let John break him. And _it_ would break _John_. He never meant to let himself fall in love with him. It was just supposed to be a flat-share. Somewhere were there wouldn't be horrible memories of what he'd lost. But for some reason, God decided he should fall in love with his flatmate.

"_I'm sorry. I warned you that I might push you to far and I have. Sher, I'm so sorry." _

"_I don't want you to be sorry, John. I want you to … Well, I just want you. And I want you to want me too."_

"_Of course I want you, sweetheart. I want everything about you. You're impossibly beautiful mind, you're elegant body, you're unusual soul but most of all, I want you're beating heart. Because I know it beats inside that chest of yours and it's not just a block of ice like you'd have the world believe. I want you. Everything about you."_

John had known what he was saying. He knew that he wanted this man more than, possibly, life itself. He wants every part of him and it makes his heart clench that Sherlock _would_ actually let him take it all.

"_I could own you. I could break you just as easily as you could break me. Except I know I could do more damage, John." _

It's possible that they could _own_ each other. Both demanding something that the other can't give. They could just as easily destroy each other. Was that really _good_ for a relationship?

"_But I know you won't. I know you wouldn't do that to me. I know you." _

John's mind focuses on what he said in reply to Sherlock's confession and he can't help the nagging feeling there.

_Does_ he know that Sherlock wouldn'tbreak him? How can he be so sure of that? Sherlock is an impossible human being and can do anything when he puts that brilliant mind of his to it. Maybe he could break the doctor. Maybe he could be the only person in this world possible of doing so and walking away unscathed.

_Maybe he could quite easily be the death of me. _

That last thought hovers in John's mind as his body gives into exhaustion and finally allows him to sleep.


	9. A Sherlock Situation

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Nine: A Sherlock Situation**

**Two Days Earlier**

"John, um, could we … have … sex? I mean, I know you want to so … why don't we?" Sherlock asks suddenly, looking incredibly awkward.

"Sher, are you … are you sure? I mean, don't you think you're rushing into this without knowing how _difficult_ it's going to be."

"I really want to. I know you'll be gentle with me, John." Sherlock replies softly, kneeling down in front of John.

"Sher ... Please … Don't do this. I … I don't want to ..."

"Jawn. Pleaaassseeee." Sherlock pouts, crawling into John's lap.

"Sher … lock. You really don't … want to do … _this_." John squeaks, feeling his jeans tighten.

"But I do." Sherlock whispers in John's ear, a suggestive smile pulling at his lips.

"_Sher_. Are you sure?" John half moans, trying to keep his arousal under control.

"_Very_." Sherlock whispers, his breath tickling John's ear.

John moans in reply; his head hitting the back of the chair with a thump.

Sherlock makes his move; grabbing John by the hand and practically running to the bedroom with John dragging behind.

"Sherlock, Mrs Hudson's downstairs, what if we disturb her?"

"John, I'm offering you sex. Are you really bringing up Mrs Hudson?" Sherlock growls, backing John up against the closed door.

"Al … right." John moans, enjoying Sherlock's body pressing him into the door.

"Who's going first?" Sherlock asks with a seductive smile.

"Do you … want to?" John asks unsurely.

"For once, John, we're on the same page." Sherlock smiles, stepping away from John. "I would offer you those … strip teases that people usually give but, um, well, I don't think I'd be nearly _sexy_ enough." He continues shyly, looking down at himself critically.

John looks at his shy, insecure partner silently judging himself and walks over to him, "Baby, trust me when I say, you are plenty _sexy_ for me. _Very_ sexy indeed." He grins, eyes roaming over Sherlock's body lustfully.

Sherlock gulps under John's wandering gaze, "You … you really think so?"

"Oh Sher, of course I do. You're beautiful to me and definitely _sexy_." John smiles, purring on the last word.

"Jawn." Sherlock moans, head rolling back.

John takes advantage of Sherlock's position and leans up to kiss his neck softly before licking from the collar bone all the way up to his chin, causing the younger man to moan and his knees to buckle. John catches Sherlock by the hips, allowing him to lean on the older man.

"Jawn, please." Sherlock moans, resting his chin on John's shoulder and the doctor continues to lick and bite his neck.

"Let's get you to the bed then, baby." John smiles, walking Sherlock backwards to the bed and laying the younger man down. "Mmm, where should I start? Your shirt? Or your _pants_?" The doctor looks up at Sherlock with a seductive stare.

"Jawn. Don't tease." Sherlock moans again, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"Patience, darling. Patience." John soothes, unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt and running his hands over the pale chest. "Sit up." He orders, pulling the younger man's arm.

John pulls the shirt from Sherlock's shoulders, running his hands down his arms and leaning in to kiss him softly.

"There's, um, protection in the draw." Sherlock announces awkwardly, blushing bright red.

"Mmm, _prepared_, I like that." John smiles, winking at the younger man.

John reaches into the draw and pulls out a condom and some lube, humming at the fact that Sherlock picked up his favourite flavour.

"How did you know I preferred strawberry?" John asks, a smirk forming.

"I do my research." Sherlock smirks back, licking his lips a little.

"I'll have to stretch you out first, okay." John says softly, undoing the button and zip on Sherlock's pants.

"I … There's no need, John. I _sorted _that earlier." Sherlock replies sheepishly, looking down at the bedsheets.

John moans loudly, his heading falling back as the image runs through his mind.

"So I was right in what I did then?" Sherlock asks unsurely, giving John a questioning look.

"Actually, I would have preferred to do it myself. Or at least have the option to _watch you_." John smirks, a little moan escaping.

"Oh, Jawn!" Sherlock moans loudly, collapsing back on the bed.

"I bet you looked beautiful, didn't you? Flushed cheeks as you spread yourself open, _preparing_ yourself for me. Where was I, _Sher_? Was it while I was doing the shopping? Or did you do it while I was here? Hoping I'd walk in and catch you? Did you moan my name? Tell me, _Sher._" John asks, crawling up Sherlock's body slowly.

"You … were talking ... to Mrs Hudson. I tried … waiting for you. Got impatient. Wanted to be ready for you. Willed you to … come upstairs … to help me. Wanted _you_." Sherlock moans shamelessly, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"You're so good, Sher. Doing all that work. Just for me. I'll be sure to makeit up to you." John replies huskily, kissing Sherlock hard and passionately, the younger man moaning beneath him.

"Please." Sherlock moans into John's mouth.

"Alright, baby. As you've been so good."

John pulls Sherlock's pants and underwear off in one, staring at his partner's erection hungrily. He tentatively licks the head, testing Sherlock's reaction again.

The younger man nearly screams. _Hypersensitivity due to over stimulation. _John notes in his brain. _Probably won't take long to make him orgasm. That doesn't matter, I'll make it worth it._

John climbs off the bed; Sherlock following him with his eyes and John stares deep into the younger man's eyes as he slowly strips off his clothing; the younger man bites his lip and stares back hungrily.

When John is completely naked, he climbs back on the bed and lifts Sherlock's hips, resting his bum on his legs as he applies lube to Sherlock's entrance. The younger man continues to moan loudly, making John smile in appreciation.

"Ready, baby?" John asks softly, drawing circles on the inside of Sherlock's thigh.

"Yes. Please, Jawn." Sherlock moans, trying to grab his partner.

"Alright then."

John pushes in carefully and the younger man hisses in pain, "I'm sorry, darling. You're still _really_ tight." John whispers softly, fingers running gently up and down Sherlock's inside thigh.

"You're _bigger_ than I thought you were, Jawn."

"I know, I'm sorry, baby. Should I stop?"

"No!" Sherlock exclaims, grabbing John's hand tightly. "It's okay. I want this, John."

"Alright, baby. But this is gonna hurt."

"Just do it, John."

John carefully pushes in further, not daring to look at Sherlock's pained expression.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, baby." John chants to Sherlock as he continues to push in slowly.

"You're in, John. You're there." Sherlock breathes, smiling a little.

"Are you ready for me to pull out? I can wait a minute."

"No, it's okay. Pull out."

John does as he's told and pulls out slowly, drawing a moan from Sherlock. He pushes back in slowly then pulls out again, repeating this a few times until Sherlock's comfy.

"Do you want to go faster?" John whispers gently.

"Please, Jawn."

John smiles in response, ramming back into Sherlock, causing him to moan loudly and wrap his legs around John's waist.

When John pulls out again, Sherlock shifts his hips slightly so John can push in better.

John rams into Sherlock harder, causing the younger man to buck his hips up and a loud moan to escape his lips.

"Jawn, more. I want more." Sherlock moans, pushing his hips down to prove his point.

John complies and pulls out nearly all the way, slamming back into Sherlock.

Sherlock screams loudly and John realises he's hit his prostate.

"How's that, baby? Want some more." John growls, slamming back into Sherlock to hear him moan.

Sherlock bucks his hips up in response.

"More. Faster." The younger man moans, forgetting all other words.

"Okay." John smiles, thrusting in harder and harder; causing Sherlock to scream every time he hits his prostate.

"Jawn, I can't … Jawn, I'm gonna …"

"That's it, _Sher_. Let go, baby. Just let it go." John replies, repeating the same words as he did when he first gave Sherlock a hand job.

Sherlock screams John's name; his whole body bucking off the bed before collapsing back down, leaving the younger man breathless.

John screams Sherlock's name in response, filling the younger man with come before collapsing on top of him.

"Baby?" John asks breathlessly, looking up at the younger man; cheeks flushed, eyelids fighting to stay open and breaths coming out harshly.

"Mm." Sherlock murmurs, too tired to actually speak.

"You … were … _fantastic_." John says breathlessly, curling up next to his partner.

"I didn't … do anything. You did … all the work." Sherlock whispers, looking back at John sleepily.

"You were very responsive." John grins, finally getting his breath back.

"You were brilliant, John." Sherlock grins back, kissing his partner's nose.

"Thanks. Tomorrow you're doing all the work."

"Tomorrow?"

"You don't seriously think I can go again, do you?" John asks incredulously, his eyes nearly bulging.

"You're not _that_ old, John." Sherlock replies with a smirk.

"Hey! You cheeky sod. I'm not _old_ full stop." John frowns, slapping Sherlock's shoulder.

"Well, going off what just happened, you've still got it."

"You were a virgin, for all you know I could have been shit." John smirks, throwing his arm over Sherlock's chest.

"And I'm glad I let _you_ change that." Sherlock smiles softly, leaning in to kiss John.

John kisses back forcefully, making the innocent kiss more passionate. Sherlock moans when John slips his tongue into his mouth and explores his mouth.

"I promise next time, there'll be more foreplay." John grins wickedly, winking at Sherlock.

"I look forward to it, John."

"Good. Now, let's get cleaned up." John replies, quickly kissing Sherlock and leaning over to pick up his vest.

He quickly scrubs Sherlock before scrubbing himself down and throwing the vest across the room.

"Bed time, baby." John smiles softly, bringing the covers over them both and snuggling into Sherlock's side.

"I love you, John. I knew that from the minute I saw you. Illogical isn't it? The thought of love at first sight. Especially with someone who had just buried their partner." Sherlock rambles on aimlessly.

"An' I love you too, _Sher._" John replies sleepily.

Sherlock smiles just as a yawn takes over him and he looks down at his partner, "Goo'night, my luv." He replies sleepily, snuggling down next to John and kissing his forehead.

Sleep over-comes him and for once, Sherlock lets it happen; spent and truly content in John's arms.

"Easy 's that." John murmurs softly in response, leaning up to kiss Sherlock's chin before drifting fully to sleep.

x..x

"What the … hell, are you doing?" John asks as he gets up the stairs.

"Bored." Sherlock drawls, slouched in the chair with the gun dangling in his hand.

"What?"

"BORED!" Sherlock shouts, jumping up and shooting the wall again. "BORED! BORED! BORED!" He continues to shout, punctuating each word with a bullet to the wall.

John covers his ears with each shot and then walks over to grab the gun off Sherlock.

"Do you always have to act like a child?" John replies, clicking the safety back on on the gun.

"I'm not." Sherlock whines, proving his point by flopping himself dramatically onto the couch.

"Of course not." John mutters to himself.

"I'm bored, John! There's no cases! None! Oh, why don't we have sex, John."

"No, Sherlock."

"What? Why?"

"I will not use sex to cure you're boredom."

"Fine, I'll just shoot the wall again."

"No you bloody won't! You could have woken Harry up."

Right on cue, Mrs Hudson calls up the stairs and John can already hear his daughter's cries.

"Correction, you _have_ woke her up. Come up, Mrs Hudson."

"NO!" Sherlock exclaims, snapping his head back to look at John.

"Sherlock! Don't be like that! She's my daughter!"

"I can't take screaming babies, _John_!"

"Tough, _Sherlock. _She's my daughter and _surprisingly_, her needs are more important than yours."

"Fine." Sherlock snaps, turning to face the back of the couch.

"Here you go, dear. I'm sorry about this." The landlady apologises, handing Harry over to John.

"Not a problem, Mrs Hudson. Thank you for babysitting." He smiles, pecking her on the cheek.

"Any time, dear." She smiles back before exiting the room.

"Here." John says to Sherlock, grabbing his shoulder to turn him round and place the baby in his arms. "You can calm her down."

And with that, John storms to the kitchen to make a brew.

"But John …"

"Shut it, Sherlock." John snaps, clicking the kettle on.

"If I calm her down can we have sex?" Sherlock calls from the couch, cradling Harry in his arms.

"No. No sex for a week for shooting the walls. We've had this discussion before, Sherlock and you never listen. Maybe you will if I stop you giving what you want."

"But Jawn, I really need it. I keep getting … _reactions_ when I see you. When you get out the shower, when you bend over, when you kiss me … I just remember our first time and it makes me want you."

"Tough."

"Please, _Jawn._"

"I told you no, Sherlock. That's final." John replies, storming back into the living room.

"Even you being angry is making me want you." Sherlock whines, curling back up to face the back of the couch.

"Well then, _behave_." John replies, before heading back into the kitchen to finish his brew.

x..x

"SHERLOCK! WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE NOW?!" John screams from the bottom of the stairs.

"John, dear, what ever is the matter? Is there really need to shout so loud about it?" Mrs Hudson asks softly, touching John's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hudson, I really am. But, you might want to stay down here for a while. Because I'm going to BLOODY KILL YOU, SHERLOCK!" John replies, storming up the stairs.

"I'll turn my tele up then, dear." Mrs Hudson calls, tottering back into her flat.

"Why are you shouting, John?" Sherlock drawls, slouched across the couch.

"What have you done to Mycroft?! He's just texted me saying that Greg's stormed out and it's because of YOU!"

"Obviously."

"Never mind bloody _obviously_!" John exclaims, dragging Sherlock up off the couch by his lapels and pinning him to the wall. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Sherlock has the decency to look _genuinely_ stunned before recomposing himself, "I just texted him saying that Mycroft doesn't _love_ anyone. He should end it before he gets to attached to Mycroft. Obviously, I was correct."

"YOU DID WHAT?! SHERLOCK, WHY … would you do that?" John asks, his voice breaking.

"I was only thinking of Lestrade."

"NO, Sherlock. You don't think of _anyone_ but _yourself_. Is that how you feel about us? Do you _love_ me or is this just one-sided?" John asks, tears in his eyes.

"That's different."

"Oh! So _you_ can love somebody but your brother can't. Is that it? Right, now it all makes sense." John replies sarcastically.

"Mycroft has never _loved_ anyone, John." Sherlock growls.

"He _loves_ you. And he _loves_ Greg. You're just too stupid to see it." John growls back, slamming Sherlock back against the wall.

"Ha. He doesn't love me. He's made it so plainly obvious he despises me."

"Oh really. So Mycroft used to get drunk and throw things at you, did he? He nearly sent your mum to an early grave by staying out for days on end and nearly coming home half dead, did he? He used to get severely depressed and try killing himself, DID HE? No, because that was MY sister. That was her technique. You know, I would have _killed_ to have an older sibling like Mycroft. Someone who would protect me from an abusive father. Someone who would keep me safe when I was scared. I would have done _anything_." John whispers the last part, tears falling down his cheeks.

"I … I didn't know, John. I ..." Sherlock whispers, bringing his hands up to John's waist, ready to pull him into a hug.

"Don't." John growls, head snapping back up to glare at Sherlock. "Is this because I'm withholding sex? Are you trying to somehow get some _attention_?"

"Don't be an idiot, John." Sherlock scoffs.

"Then why?!"

"I … I don't know." Sherlock whispers, looking down at the floor.

"You know what, _fine_." John growls and Sherlock's pretty sure he's going to get a punch from John.

Instead, John, once more, slams him against the wall but immediately drives his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, pinning the younger man to the wall with the whole force of his body and strength. The younger man moans into John's mouth so John bites his lip as punishment. This isn't about pleasure, it's about giving Sherlock what he wants in an attempt to stop him being such an insufferable prat.

"Jawn." Sherlock moans when John realises they both need air and breaks the kiss.

"Don't, Sherlock." John growls, "This is what you want, right? You want some stimulation. Well, I'm giving it to you, but don't you dare _think_ this means I forgive you or that we can just go back to normal. You _deliberately_ sabotaged your brother's relationship for your own pleasure. And you hurt our friend in the process."

"I … I'm sorry, John. I … I didn't realise." Sherlock stutters, trying to find the right words.

"Don't apologise to me, Sherlock! Apologise to your brother and Greg. Its them that you've hurt." John replies sadly, pulling away from Sherlock.

"John."

"I'm going to bed, Sherlock. I suggest you _ring_ your brother and apologise." John replies, heading for the door.

"John," Sherlock starts, grabbing John's arm and turning him round. "I _do _love you. I really do. You're the better side of me." He continues, pulling John closer.

"Apologise to Mycroft and we'll see what happens." John replies coldly, pulling away from Sherlock.

Sherlock pulls out his mobile and dials his brother's number.

x..x

_Thanks, mate._

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_So Sherlock apologised then?_

_JW_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_Yeah, how did you get him to do that?_

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_That would be telling._

_JW_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

_Doesn't matter anyway. Thanks_

_GL_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

"Who are you texting?" Sherlock asks, suspiciously.

"Greg." John replies simply, not looking up at the younger man.

_No worries, mate_

_JW_

_**MESSAGE SENT**_

"Is everything alright with them?" Sherlock asks cautiously, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"So now you care?" John snaps slightly.

"Yes. I was wrong, and I … shouldn't have messed with their relationship. Please, forgive me." Sherlock whispers, looking down at the bedsheets.

John rolls his eyes and sighs, "Come here you, silly git."

He pulls the younger man into his arms, kissing his mess of curls and breathing in the scent of the younger man.

"Do you still love me?" Sherlock whispers into John's chest.

"Of course I do, baby. Just because we argue, it doesn't mean I don't love you anymore." John replies gently, stroking Sherlock's curls.

"Good, because I love you too." Sherlock whispers, gripping John tightly.

"Come on, darling, let's get to bed."

"Okay." Sherlock replies without argument, climbing under the covers and pulling John close to him.

John pulls Sherlock even closer, allowing the younger man to rest his head on the doctor's chest.

"Goodnight, John. Sleep well."

"You too, baby." John smiles, kissing Sherlock's forehead.


	10. A New Day

**Daddy Loves You**

**Chapter Ten: A New Day**

"Good morning, John." Sherlock smiles, handing the sleepy doctor a cup of tea.

"Mornin' Sher." John replies sleepily, taking the cup from the younger man, "What's this for?"

"An apology. For the way I've been acting." Sherlock whispers, looking at the floor.

"Oh. Um, thank you, Sher." John smiles softly, leaning in to kiss the younger man.

Sherlock takes the cup from John's hand and puts it down on the table, wrapping his arms around John's waist to hold him better.

John brings his hands up to Sherlock's curls and pulls his head down slightly, kissing the younger man deeper; causing a soft moan to slip from his lips. John smiles softly, rubbing soothing circles in Sherlock's scalp and feeling the younger man relax into the touch.

"Idiot." John smiles fondly, stroking Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock smiles in response, bringing his hand up to meet Johns'.

"Lestrade said there are no interesting cases yet, so we could take Harry to the park. If you want that is." Sherlock whispers, his arm still wrapped around John.

"That would be nice." John replies softly, still smiling at the younger man.

"After breakfast." Sherlock adds, moving away from John to head back to the kitchen.

"So I'm making it then?" John grins, watching as the younger man sits at the table and waits as patiently as a child.

"Obviously." Sherlock smirks, sipping at his tea.

"Go get Harry then. She'll be due a feed."

Sherlock smiles brightly before disappearing to the bedroom to get the little girl.

"Hello, Harry. I bet you're hungry, aren't you?" Sherlock says softly to the sleepy baby.

Harry makes a sound in reply as Sherlock lifts her up out of the cot.

"Come on then, let's get you some breakfast." Sherlock adds, resting the baby on his shoulder as he walks back to the kitchen. "I bet you can't wait until you're bigger, then you can have proper food."

John chuckles as he listens to his partner talking to his daughter as though she can understand him.

"What are you giggling at?" Sherlock asks a little snappily, causing John to turn around to chastise his partner for speaking to his daughter so nastily.

As he turns round though, John realises the question was aimed at him, "You. What happened to 'it's pointless talking to her, John. She doesn't understand'?" He grins, handing the milk over to Sherlock.

"Yes, well, you said it's good for her to hear calm voices. And you are a doctor so you should know these things."

"It's not about being a doctor, Sher. It's about being a parent. Everybody talks to their baby in soothing tones. It's like the unwritten manual of parenthood." John smiles softly, stroking Harry's head gently.

"Oh."

This little noise causes John to giggle softly and causes the younger man to glare at him.

"Do you want to feed her?" John asks, a hint of amusement still present in his tone.

"Well, you're making breakfast so I guess I'll have to." Sherlock snaps, snatching the bottle off John.

"Yeah, and like you wouldn't have offered even if I _wasn't_ making breakfast." John chuckles, filling Sherlock's plate with a few slices of bacon, two sausages and a few spoonfuls of beans.

"That's not the point." Sherlock replies, failing at snapping at John.

"Of course, love." John smiles, setting the plate down on the desk.

Sherlock smiles down at the little girl and a blush creeps up his cheeks.

"What's up with you, Mr Happy?" John asks in an amused tone.

"Nothing." Sherlock replies, still not able to wipe the smile off his face.

"Alright." John says, shaking his head and going back to his breakfast.

"You called me _love_." Sherlock whispers, his smile faltering.

John pauses in his actions, looking back at Sherlock, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I guess it's just a force of habit when you're with somebody. I didn't ..."

"No, John, it's fine. Well, it's better than fine. I … _like_ it." Sherlock smiles, looking up at John.

"Oh, good, I guess." John replies awkwardly, going back to his breakfast.

"Hello, boys." Mrs Hudson greets brightly, "Aww, Sherlock, look at you. Taking to this father thing very well, aren't you?" She smiles softly, looking almost tearful with pride.

"Morning, Mrs Hudson." John smiles, looking up at their landlady.

"Good morning, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock smiles as well, pulling the now empty bottle away from Harry's lips.

"Oh, John, can I hold her?" Mrs Hudson asks softly, a little excited spark in her eyes.

"If Sherlock will let you, yeah." John grins at Sherlock; who just scowls in reply.

"Of course you can, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock replies with a smile, handing the baby over to their landlady.

"Aww, she's beautiful. She definitely gets it from you, John. There's even that little twinkle in her eyes, like the one you get when you come back from a case."

"I think she gets it all from her mother really, she was beautiful." John sighs sadly, looking down at the desk.

An awkward silence falls on the flat and Sherlock stands up slowly, resting his hand on John's shoulder.

"Mrs Hudson, would you give Harry a bath and get her dressed, please?" Sherlock asks gently, looking back at her with a soft smile.

"Of course, dear." Mrs Hudson replies with an understanding smile, "Come on, Harry, let's get you all nice and clean, shall we?" She says to the baby, smiling brightly at her.

Sherlock waits until they've left the room before kneeling down next to his partner.

"John, I'm not good at this, but I'll try to do what I can. I know that you're always going to love Mary, especially because she's the mother of your child and our … _relationship_ has only just begun so you're not going to just _get over_ the loss of your wife. And I would be wrong to ask you to, but I've never felt this way before and I'm going to need you, because I'm actually terrified. You know how fear annoys me but as long as I have you, I know I'll be okay." He says softly, resting his hand on top of John's.

John looks as though he's about to try when he turns to look at Sherlock, but instead he just replies weakly, "Thank you, Sher. I … I don't know what to say. That was … _beautiful_. Wow, who knew you could have such a way with words without knowing it."

"So, _that_ helped? Me just going on without any proper point?" Sherlock asks in a confused tone.

"Welcome to the world of _ordinary _people." John smiles a little, ruffling Sherlock's curls.

Sherlock sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, sitting at the desk to eat his now-slightly-cold breakfast.

John raises at eyebrow at Sherlock, curiousness on his face.

"You're always pestering me to eat, so I am." Sherlock sighs, shovelling down the food.

x..x

"Just remember to be careful with her, Sherlock." John warns as his partner sits down on a swing with Harry in his arms.

"I'm not an _idiot_, John." Sherlock sighs, swinging his legs a little to move the swing.

"Of course not." John replies with a slight smile and roll of his eyes.

"I think she likes it, John." Sherlock smiles widely, listening to Harry giggle.

"Yeah, she does." John smiles in return, sitting on the swing next to them and watching his daughter.

"When you're bigger, Harry, you'll be able to swing on your own." Sherlock tells the little girl, with a wide grin.

John chuckles softly, watching his partner interact with his daughter.

"You're surprisingly good with her. Considering where you were when you first started. You're actually acting like a _dad_. I knew you could do it." John says softly, smiling at his partner.

"Maybe it's not as bad as I thought it would be." Sherlock replies matter-of-factly, looking up at John and trying to suppress a smile.

"You love it." John grins, prodding his partner in the arm.

"Maybe." Sherlock replies indifferently, before looking back at Harry, "Shall we go on the slide, Harry?"

"Oh, this I _gotta _see." John grins, pulling out his phone as Sherlock runs off to the climbing frame.

John clicks on the camera button and presses record as Sherlock holds Harry tightly to his chest and slides down the slide; his Belstaff giving a little help with the sliding.

John smiles widely as Sherlock bounces back over to him.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asks curiously, spotting the phone in John's hand.

"Nothing, love. Just checking my texts, see if Lestrade's got anything for us." John replies innocently, quickly opening his inbox.

Sherlock looks him over suspiciously but quickly turns his attention back to Harriet; who is yawning and slumping against Sherlock.

"I think she's tired, John."

"Yeah, she does that. Come on then, let's get her home."

x..x

"She's out like a light." John announces, dropping onto the couch and resting his head on the back.

"I guess we tired her out." Sherlock replies, leaning back on the couch.

"Yeah, we did. And she's not the only ..." John breaks off, yawning loudly.

"I think it's time for bed, John."

"It's only half seven."

"Shall we watch tv for a while then?" Sherlock asks, picking up the remote anyway.

"Yeah. Just _no_ commentary." John warns, pointing a finger at the younger man.

"Fine." Sherlock replies with a long-suffering sigh.

"Good." John smiles, putting his feet up on the couch to get comfy.

Sherlock keeps to his word and doesn't comment once, but John can tell he's just inching to; he's twitching his fingers and chewing the inside of his cheek.

John grins to himself and tries not to say anything.

After an hour, John's head falls to Sherlock's shoulder and the younger man looks over at John.

He's currently fast asleep and snoring lightly so Sherlock shifts him a little so that he can wrap an arm around John's back, while he moves the other under John's legs.

He should probably take John up to his room but he doesn't want to risk dropping his partner, so instead he lies him carefully down on his own bed before going upstairs to grab the baby monitor.

Once he's got that, Sherlock puts it down on the table and curls up to watch some more tv for a while.

x..x

"I _actually_ need my bed." Sherlock sighs to himself.

When did he become so pedestrian? Or maybe it's the doctor in his bed that makes him _need_ it. After weeks of closeness and curling up on the couch watching tv until John's goes back to his own room, Sherlock _needs_ the doctor in his arms and in his bed.

He picks up the remote and turns the tv off, heading back to his room. Sherlock stops at the door, watching John sleep so peacefully. He smiles softly, climbing into bed behind John, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the older man and breathing in his scent.

John makes a sound in his sleep and Sherlock freezes, until John turns onto his back and guides Sherlock's head down to his chest, resting his hand in his curls.

Sherlock sighs softly, curling into John and throwing a leg over his partner's.

_This is just what I need._ Sherlock thinks, sighing one last time before succumbing to sleep for once.


End file.
